


January

by orionstarlight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Jacket sharing, M/M, Mutual Pining, just bokuaka being soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28157634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: “How come you’re out here, Bokuto-san?” he asks when they stop, zipping the rest of the way. “Aren’t you going to watch TV?”He turns around, hands on hips, confused. “We did, though.”“Well, I mean, you usually watch it on repeat a hundred times,” he clarifies, placing his hands in his pockets.-------Bokuto and Akaashi scene from the last episode of season four -- extended cut.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 90





	January

* * *

The TV is still playing somewhere in the background, the rest of the team all teasing insults and pride, on a high from not only their match, but from the others as well. If they weren’t so tired they’d probably be plotting strategies to employ against Inubushi, but they deserve some rest.

Bokuto played well today. Was thinking clearly, seemed barely affected by anything else that wasn’t in his peripheral. He’s rounding up to be a good ace for when he gra—well, for when he keeps on playing.

He’s reading, something for his literature class for when they come back from the Interhigh, and it helps keep his head clear, so he doesn’t mind. He’d be fine like that until it was time to settle down if it wasn’t for the shadow that moves after the twentieth replay of the news that he sets the book aside, tugs on a jacket that’s next to him, and walks after the shadow.

It doesn’t take him long to catch up, just behind him when the doors to the outside open, his jacket half-zipped up, January air hitting him instantly. He’s the only one that’s old, apparently, because Bokuto seems fine with just his jumper, but he doesn’t need to worry, not when Bokuto doesn’t get sick.

“How come you’re out here, Bokuto-san?” he asks when they stop, zipping the rest of the way. “Aren’t you going to watch TV?”

He turns around, hands on hips, confused. “We did, though.”

“Well, I mean, you usually watch it on repeat a hundred times,” he clarifies, placing his hands in his pockets.

“Who the heck do you think I am?” A cloud of air leaves his mouth. “I wasn’t on camera that much, so watching it twenty times is plenty.” He turns around again.

_So you actually watched it twenty times. Looks like I’m on point. But then, why come outside instead of stay in and complain that they didn’t angle the camera right? Or that they could have gotten a shot of you instead of one of the other team?_

“Well… I’m still going to be playing volleyball after high school, so I didn’t really think that things were that different, even though this is my last high school tournament.”

True. When he’s going to be pursuing a professional career, there’ll be bigger things to think about than this Interhigh. Five years, ten years down the line, he probably won’t remember who they even faced in this round. Akaashi isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to forget, but not because he wants to remember the match itself.

“Man, I really wish I could play with you guys more!”

The lilt in his voice has Akaashi’s face morphing into one of confusion this time, even though he shouldn’t be surprised Bokuto still has his enthusiasm. It’s one of his more endearing qualities, and it would be a foul loss. Although, the way he says the words…

“You’re not going to die, are you, Bokuto-san?” It probably would sound like sarcasm to anyone else, but he can’t help adding a serious edge when he asks.

“Huh? I plan on living until I’m a hundred and thirty years old.”

His cheeks flush. He shouldn’t have expected any other answer really. As if Bokuto was going to quit any earlier than that. He’s still trying to outlive one of his ancestors, if he remembers correctly. 

He readjusts his posture, looks at the two-toned haired giant in front of him. _Better not derail the conversation onto ancestry, or we’ll be here all night._

“What are you talking about? It’s only the second day.” _Already the second day._ “The third round, the quarterfinals, the semifinals, the finals… The road is still long for us.”

Us. Like Akaashi isn’t going to watch Bokuto’s train speed off from the station in a few weeks, never to return, and the one he’ll be catching will never meet at the same destination. Still. Dare to dream, right?

“Yeah. And we’re going to win all of them.”

He’s pulling one of his serious faces, where his eyes go all wide and his eyebrows knit together and he stares into the distance, like he can already imagine his winning spike, Fukurōdani pulling ahead by a mile. Akaashi knows it well, even if he can’t see it, and it makes his walls fall.

He chuckles into the jacket so he won’t be able to hear it, opaque air coming out of his nose. No use being embarrassed right now. There’ll be plenty of time for it later.

“Alright, let’s hurry inside,” he says, pushing Bokuto out of the cold, hands finding his back easily, feeling out all of the fuzz balls on the jumper. “The flu and the norovirus are going around. You can’t underestimate January.”

“January?!” No surprise there then, that Bokuto isn’t quite sure what month they’re in. But then, he measures time in memories, not weeks or months or years.

At some point, those hands come off his back, settling into the jacket pockets again. They walk like this, slowly, until Bokuto stops again and pulls him into a stairwell before he can process things.

He blinks up at him, two strong arms holding his biceps. And then they let go and pull him in close, so his cheek is pressed just under his ear, and he can feel all of the warmth that shouldn’t be possible even if they weren’t outside for that long. His hands slide under the jumper, taking it all in as he promises not to cry.

“I’m going to miss you wearing my clothes. ‘Specially my jacket.”

“Hm?”

“I—You’re wearing my jacket. The shoulder placement is off. Weird thing to notice, huh?” He smiles against the underside of Bokuto’s jaw.

“As if I haven’t noticed stranger things, Kōtarō. Also, I’m sorry if my hands are cold.”

He shakes his head and they look at each other in this dimly lit stairwell. They know they should be getting back to bed now, not worried about things even if they are weeks away. They have plenty of time to figure it all out.

“S’fine. I like it, Keiji,” he smiles, nevermind that it wavers.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twt: @bitchinIesbian
> 
> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
